


eleven minutes

by evaneddie



Series: dhylen writes one shots [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Heavy Angst, M/M, One Shot, im not even sorry, like get ur tissues ready
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 23:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19982029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evaneddie/pseuds/evaneddie
Summary: eleven minutes. that's all the time he has. eleven minutes until all the emotional pain is over. eleven minutes until he can finally let go. he hasn't moved in the last three. paralysed in worry and who knows what else. cold and scared. there's nothing anyone can do for him now, and damn he wishes he had taken that call.





	eleven minutes

**Author's Note:**

> @911promptsforall (tumblr) this is for u. u always encourage my angst, and this is all ur fault.

Eleven minutes. That's all the time he has. Eleven minutes until all the emotional pain is over. Eleven minutes until he can finally let go. He hasn't moved in the last three. Paralysed in worry and who knows what else. Cold and scared. There's nothing anyone can do for him now, and damn he wishes he had taken that call. Maybe if he had gotten out of the way, none of this would have happened. Hearing the voice before now would have been nice. At least when his phone had miraculously rang again while he lay there, he was able to answer the call with voice prompting. When his voice forced a meek sentence out of his mouth, he could feel the tense panic on the other end of the line. It wouldn't be long before he could see that gorgeous face again. For that he is excited. 

Eleven minutes is not a very long time if you think about it. It's barely half an episode of a sitcom. Most of those go for about a half hour, right? With multiple ad breaks in between. He's trying so desperately to keep his eyes open. In his mind he can see the figure standing there, waiting for him to be ready, lurking in the shadows and not showing its face. Somehow he doesn't feel it's a human presence, nor does he feel it's animalistic. Besides distracting him, it doesn't do much anyway. And he knows he should be trying to focus on the task at hand, but it's hard when all he wants to do is sleep. It's some time late at night after nine right now. What he wouldn't give to be in a warm bed, wrapped up snugly in the arms of his best friend, as they share sweet little kisses before drifting off. He wonders now why he hadn't told the man how he feels. Of course he's just scared, but he's more terrified now than he ever has been before. 

Eleven minutes was all the figure could give him. Said it was well and truly enough time. Even that was pushing it. But there's no way that amount of time would ever be enough. Not to explain everything to the one he cares about so dearly. Not to come to terms with all that's happening. He audibly gasps as the first minute has passed and it hits him like a sucker punch to the lungs. Silently he hopes not every other sixty seconds will come around like this. 

Ten minutes is all he has. Ten minutes to tell his truth. Not on any inch of his body is the tiniest amount of pain, he's just numb and cold, and all alone. There's nobody else around, nobody to hold his hand and tell him pretty little lies that everything will all be okay. It's clear that it won't be. But it would be an attempt to make him feel better, an attempt that he would definitely appreciate. The only thing near him is the wreck that resembles his messy life, and the figure in his mind. It gets closer with each looming moment, taunting him, whispering something he can't quite piece together. The whispers are dark, sickening him right to his core. Even as it nears closer, he still can't make out a face or any other defining features. Except the fact that it's maybe eight feet tall and it's black shadow-like (body?) kind of tapers off into nothingness, fading and blending with the air around it.

With a deafening thump, his heart feels like it's about to explode out of his chest, and burst through his ribcage. The gasp for air is slightly louder this time, and now he's certain it will get worse. Nine minutes. Nine minutes maximum. He could close his eyes before then, easily, like it's no big deal. But he can't fight sleep for more than nine minutes. He's not sure what would happen if he tried, but with the faceless figure making the rules, he's not even sure he wants to know. For a moment he swears he sees the figure hiding its fiery red hair back into the darkness of itself, but he can't be positive. If he was seeing correctly though, it looked like literal red flames. Not real though, right? Fire as hair? Yeah right.

There's a siren in the distance, and he wonders what it could be. There's really only three choices to pick from, so it can't be that hard. People try and decipher what emergency service is speeding through traffic after hearing the warning alarm. But most don't know that the siren is the same for all of them. Essentially the clue isn't in the sound of the siren, but how it's being used. If there is a large air horn sound accompanying aforementioned siren, it's a fire engine. Ambulances use more of a wail type sound, whereas the police department operate more with the yelps. It's funny how he can think of all this information, but seemingly is unable to put it into practice, as his brain is way too tired. He has no clue what vehicle is plummeting down the street five blocks away from where he is. 

As the eighth minute hits him, tears sting his eyes with the guttural hit to his torso from the inside once more. There's seven more of these he needs to endure before it's all over. He could just give up sooner, knowing the pain is only going to become more intense. But he can't, not yet. Not until he sees the person he's waiting on. He's glad it's the only pain he can feel, and it only lasts a full three seconds before it's gone. If he could feel anything else, he's not sure he would last the eight minutes he has left. Only eight minutes? How did it so quickly get from eleven to eight? It's simultaneously both the longest and the shortest thing he's ever experienced. 

His thoughts travel to the day they met at the fire station, and he thinks that maybe this could take his mind off everything for a moment, so he embraces it. Saying they hated each other at first wouldn't be entirely correct, but they definitely had some tension and honestly despised of one another. After knowing the other man for so long now, he doesn't even know why they didn't get along in the first place. Jealousy, perhaps? Pretty sure that's what it was. The looks of the other were so intimidating that they just had to not get along. It would ruin their... something. He doesn't even know what words to use, his mind not cooperating, too drained to do anything other than just sit still. 

There's a pang in his gut again, and while it causes a level of pain that makes him cry out, he attempts to push it to the side, basically ignoring it. That's how he's always solved his problems, and it's worked thus far. Okay, maybe not always, but when it was in relation to his feelings about a certain someone, then yes. That is how he dealt with that issue. So if it worked for that long enough, maybe it could work for this too. Maybe. It's not a certainty. Nothing ever is. But maybe it hasn't worked this far. The feelings of love he has are still there, they haven't gone away with him ignoring them. If anything, they'd become more intense and harder to ignore. Not because he was trying to forget about it, he doesn't think. But just because that's what happens sometimes when you start to crush on someone and it slowly turns into something much more than just a crush. He can't believe he just admitted to himself that he's in love with another guy. 

There's nothing wrong with that, of course. But he'd been repressing the hell out of it for a while now. Years, even. For his own internalised hatred. Not even homophobia. Just pure distress of rejection from those close to him. His family, both biological and found, would have accepted him no matter what he 'came out' as. As long as he wasn't a murderer or something. However, there's always that nagging thought in the back of his mind, no matter how accepting they are, that maybe they would see and treat him differently. The possibility of that occurring is something he never wants to experience actually happening. So it's been kept hidden for a long time. 

He lets the tears escape his eyes as the sixth minute strikes, and he lets out a groan. Surely the other man isn't too far away now. Surely he wouldn't have to wait too much longer. Sleep is just around the corner, ready to take him into the peaceful abyss. It sounds so nice and relaxing, he's almost looking forward to it. He's never felt this unrested before. His best friend said he was only eleven minutes away, so why isn't he here? They'd been apart all day, missing one another dearly. Well, Eddie had been missing Buck all day. He isn't sure about how Buck feels. 

The smell of petrol fills his nostrils, and he tries his hardest not to inhale it. It would be sure to give him an instant headache, and that's not something he needs right now. Right now what he needs is to have his hand held by the man he loves. He wants this man to hold him close and tell him that everything will work out fine. Even when they know it won't. Especially when they know it won't. Being cold and alone sucks. In moments like this? It's the worst. There's something about the way he could be comforted by just a single glance, something about how calming it is. But it also makes him feel vulnerable, like he's on show for the world to see.

It's only now after hearing voices of two strangers running up to him that he realises another person should be there with him. On one hand, he doesn't want the two most important people in his life to witness any of this, but on the other, he needs them. To say his last goodbyes, or to tell them what they need to do next, he doesn't know.

The running footsteps pound on the cool ground under his head, growing louder with each step. Maybe the figure was wrong, maybe he does have a chance to get out of this somehow. Anything is possible, right? 

"Shit," he hears distantly, the voice coming from one of the strangers. It sounds very feminine and young. Maybe mid to late teens? "Call 911!" 

"My phone is dead," the other replies frantically. Of course it's dead. Just his luck isn't it? Luck? Who is she? He doesn't know luck, never has. Well that's not entirely true. He hasn't really known luck, except when his son arrived in this world, and when he met Buck. 

Buck. What he wouldn't give to see that face. 

He's down to five minutes now, and it doesn't strike him as intensely. Still he feels ill in the stomach as it comes around, but it doesn't hurt as much as it has done. Over halfway through, now. Could he get through the next part? In all honesty, he's not confident in that being a yes. 

"Sir, can you hear me?" It's the second voice he heard, the older more masculine one. Maybe the teen's father? No, he looks too young. Older brother maybe? Though, it doesn't matter, it's not of importance right now. He can't make a sound, just watches the end of the street awaiting for the arrival of the one and only Evan Buckley. The direction he's watching while he takes in shallow breaths is the one Buck is going to be coming from. It's the easiest and most direct route from the station. That's where he had said he was. Maybe the siren he could hear before was Buck? Wouldn't he be here by now if that was the case? So no, he guesses that one wasn't for him. There are many other emergencies each and every night, ones that have patients requiring more attention than he does. As he'd mentioned to himself earlier, there's nothing anybody would be able to do to help him anyway. 

The figure is no longer lingering in his mind, it's escaped the dark corners and whisked itself into the scene unfolding before him. Two strangers are panicking over his basically lifeless body, the only movement being his blinking and rapid breathing. The younger of the two is on the phone to a 911 operator, retelling everything she could see. And while he's grateful for the efforts of the man around his age trying to keep him awake, it won't be working for too much longer. 

It's minute four. And then minute three in an abrupt moment. How in the world did he lose a full one? Did it possibly have something to do with the figure being in the real world around him? Could that be it? Maybe. Maybe not. "Eddie…" The eerie whisper will continue to haunt his next three minutes of waking life. 

_Who are you?_ He asks through his mind. He's just assumed it could be heard. Be heard it was. 

"My name is not important. To you humans it would sound like nothing but noise, anyway." The voice doesn't seem to sound on either end of the scale between male and female. It doesn't even sound like a voice. It's just a low hum. 

Besides the all dark figure speaking, he can kind of hear words coming from the real people that are actually there with him. Trying not to pay attention, he gasps audibly as he drops down to two minutes left. There's sirens again, this time closer. Praying silently for it to be Buck, he refocuses his eyes and sees the fire engine and ambulance nearing. Flashes of red and blue take over his vision and he can hear a faint call of his name.

"Eddie?" Buck questions, sliding along the bitumen on his knees, most likely ruining his pants and tearing his flesh up. Clearly he doesn't care though, as it seems to not faze him, and he works to pull out a bunch of equipment and hook them up to Eddie's body.

"Hey, love, stay with me, okay?" 

"Mmm.." is all he can say in return. "Numb. Not good."

A whisper of curses under Buck's breath can be heard, but Eddie pays it no mind. Also, did Buck just call him love? The others are there too, working to free him from the car wreckage. While he loves them all dearly, he pays them no mind, training his eyes on Buck. The sweetest man he's ever known.

"We're gonna get you out of there, and you'll be fine, okay?" To Eddie it sounds like Buck is trying to convince himself on the idea that all was going to go well. But neither of them are dumb enough to believe that. 

"You're beautiful," Eddie mutters, the weight of the car being lifted slightly from his abdomen. He can't even let out a scream. It doesn't hurt. Why doesn't it hurt?

"Hey, shh, don't talk like that." Buck's not forcing his tears away, he's just letting them freely roll down his cheeks. 

"One minute, Diaz."

 _Fuck off_ he tells it. 

"Don't talk like you're never gonna see me again," begs Buck. He's grasped Eddie's hand now. Feeling that sensation is something Eddie will forever be grateful for wherever he ends up next. Whether it be starting all over again in a new life. Or if there is such thing as afterlife.

"Look after Christopher," Eddie tells him, his voice hitching as he speaks. No, damn it, he won't break down yet. Not when there's more to say. "Sorry I'ws scared. Love you." It's a jumble of words, but it gets the point across. He hopes, at least. 

"No, you're not leaving me. You're going to be okay, and I'm taking you on a date once you're recovered enough. Capiche?" Buck lets go of Eddie's hand and cups both of his cheeks, while staring into his eyes. 

Twenty seconds left. He wishes he could move. He would do anything to kiss Buck's gorgeous face right now. His sad, gorgeous face. 

_What do you want from me?_ He's screaming as loud as he can, pleading with the figure. 

"I'm here to bring you through, make sure you don't get lost along the way." Again the fiery red hair peeks out from under the darkness. He hadn't noticed before, but it looks like actual flames. Even the way each piece licks at the air and crackles soundlessly. 

He takes one last breath before he closes his eyes, and the last thing he hears is Buck's gentle voice. "I love you, Eds."

A pair of soft lips are pressed to his own, and although he's ejected from his body, he can still feel the pressure of the kiss. It's soft and sweet, but so full of pain and despair. The world had always messed with these two, keeping them apart from so long. Keeping them apart was probably no one's fault but their own, but for now, Eddie's blaming it on the universe and whatever stupid fate was planned for them.

From above, he watches on, sees his pale, bleeding body thrown to the ground with half of it stuck under his car. He wonders how it hadn't killed him sooner. Instantly, even. How was it possible. Was he really that strong willed? Well of course he was, love does that to a person.

Talking about himself in past tense is kind of strange. Especially considering he's still around in a way, but not in the real sense. 

Buck is sobbing over his body, a foreign experience for the team. They are all upset, for obvious reasons. But Buck most of all. 

_Who are you?_ Eddie asks once more. Maybe now that he's not alive anymore, he might get an answer.

"I already told you," it replies with a huff. Eddie glares in the direction of where its face might be if it were human. It sighs loudly before speaking again. "Call me Kay."

_I want to go back, let me go back!_

"I'm afraid I can't let that happen," it says, no remorse in its voice. 

He just wants enough time to go back and see his son again. To be able to go on that date with Buck, and kiss him goodnight. Can he fight this? Can he somehow get back to his life? To the life he wants?

It isn't possible is it?

Kay grabs his arm, tightly, gripping him like its life depended on it. Fingers like burning hot steel, only it leaves no pain, just heat. Pure heat. With every ounce of power he has in his being that's slowly being sucked into the void, he tugs his arm out of its grip and attempts to make a run for it. His legs move faster than he's ever let them before, but they seemingly take him nowhere. He may as well just be running at full speed on a treadmill. 

He can still hear Buck's sobs, and feels a warm head on his chest. _Why can I still feel things from down there?_

"That's not possible, Diaz. You're dead. The only way that could happen, is if mistakes were made. And I don't make mistakes." 

He just wants to collapse to the ground and scream. Scream until his throat is raw and his lungs can't take it anymore. Cry until every ounce of liquid in his body has dried up. Fight until he physically can't after a while.

"I love you Eddie," Buck whispers into the bloodied shirt of Eddie's former self.

 _I love you too,_ he replies, even though he and Kay are the only ones that can hear it. A tear escapes his eye, crystallising at the edge, like when you wake up with sleep in your eyes. Or as Buck likes to call it; eye snot. In another life, maybe he would try to be better. He would try to say what he's feeling when he's feeling it. But he won't remember any of this. And it's his personality trait, so it probably won't change because as far as he will not, he would not have learned from it. 

Somewhere in his chest he can feel a rib breaking thumping, as if he is being brought back to life. But he isn't. He knows exactly what's going on. "Buck, he's gone," he hears a tearful Hen say out loud. "He's not coming back."

"I know, but he is an organ donor, and I need to keep his heart pumping until you can get him free and he can continue to help people." In Buck's voice, Eddie hears the fear of everything. The sadness of losing Eddie. 

_I love you, Evan._

Eleven minutes was all he had. He wishes he could have had at least eleven hours. Eleven hours until the last moment of his life. He'd want to know, of course. So then he would have nothing to worry about. Living his best life in those last eleven hours, holding his son close to his body while telling him how proud he is to have Christopher as a kid. The kindest, most passionate boy in the world. Strong, too. 

He would let the 118 team know how appreciative of them he is. How they all changed his life for the better. Thanking them for being there when he needed it most. With how they are all positive role models for Christopher. Bobby being like a second father to him. Hen, the older sister that doesn't care what others think, and that everyone loves to annoy. Chimney, the sweet, lovable uncle. And Buck. The disaster child.

Buck. He feels those lips on his again, only this time to give the illusion he's actually breathing, not one of passion. No longer can he see his body on the ground, but instead it's in the back of an ambulance, with Buck kneeling on top of him, not giving up on chest compressions. 

_Please, it's not my time._ He's screaming at the top of his lungs, but not via his mouth, no sound comes out of there. It's all in his mind, which is quite odd, but it doesn't matter right now. Kay grabs him by the heart, squeezing hard on the muscle, preventing him from moving. He doesn't breathe now that he no longer inhabits a human body, but if he did, that action would be taken from him at this moment. Glowing yellow eyes bore into his, more of Kay's form coming into sight. He knows it has red hair, yellow eyes, and is at least seven feet tall. What is it? Is Kay some sort of angel or another ethereal being?

"I'm a guiding spirit, and you're not leaving." 

Determination illuminates his facial features, and he pulls away from its grip with all that he can muster. Strength apparently isn't his strong suit now that he no longer exists in the literal sense. Back when he was alive, he used to be able to bench his body weight and a half, and now it's like he can't even remove himself from the hands of this spirit. He doesn't want to hate it, but even though it's just doing its job, he can't help feeling the hatred build up inside his soul. 

If he were ready, he would not have a problem with any of this. At all. Gladly, he would go when it was his time. But that time is not now, he knows it deep within him. Hell, he knows it on the surface of himself. Not just deep inside. He pulls again, all but ripping himself from its grip and he starts to fall backwards into milky blackness.

His gut drops, like the feeling you get when you reach the top of a drop on a rollercoaster and your stomach twists as the ride heads downward at crazy speeds. Flailing his arms about, he tries to grab onto something to stop the fall. But there's nothing around. Just the empty air. 

In an instant he feels a tingling pain over his body as he continues to fall. And suddenly there's a shocking amount of pain like he's fallen flat on his back onto concrete. But he hasn't, he's not on concrete. Nor is he in the void anymore. Although, it is still dark here. And he can't breathe. Why can't he breathe? It puts him into an almost panic but it doesn't last long before he gasps air into his lungs louder than he's ever heard from anyone before. He's alive again?

"Nobody has ever fought that hard," he hears Kay speak in his mind before it's radio silence once more.

The light around him is blinding as his eyes fly open, and it takes him a second to focus on the man above him.

It's Buck. Eddie smiles weakly at him, his pattern of breathing bordering on hyperventilation. "Eddie?" Buck asks.

_Yes. I'm here._


End file.
